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I Complimented Four People

By Georgia Puiatti, November 23, 2018

Read time: 2 Mins

I Complimented Four People Image

I was at a party. The sun was setting and it was nearing on dusk.

We sat in my friend’s backyard, a humble mess of a garden. The lines between lawn and flowerbed blurred as the weeds and overturn dirt occupied the footing. But the shed was decorated with twinkling lights, it made the place a little more special than usual. A boy played music he mixed and we drank red wine. A girl I don’t know walked in, her makeup looked so nice. I didn’t know her but I had an undeniable urge to say something. I tapped her shoulder ‘your makeup looks so pretty, like, really pretty’. Her eyes lit a little more and we talked about glitter and sparkles for the better side of a half hour. I see her more often now and she always greets me with a warm hug.

I know a boy and he has a face with really lovely features. Dark eyes and a strong jawline, he is a dreamboat and I appreciate him so much. So I said to him, ‘hey, you know how much I appreciate you? You have a lovely face’. He smiled a little, his cheeks went peachy and I think I made his day.

My sister has the best intuition with food; she bakes the sweetest of treats. I love to get home to her mess of dripping syrup and gooey batter stained on the kitchen top. Soft blueberry muffins with a lemon glaze, sprinkled with dried up rose petals. A warm pie brimming with sour cherries and drizzled with honey and tahini. Little raw chocolate bites studded with pistachios and sea salt. I told her that I loved the way she cooked for me, that sometimes it felt like her treats slipped into my heart and radiated some kind of existential love that other food just couldn’t imitate. Now she leaves me muffins and sends me recipes often, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

I was shopping, it was 4pm and I had not yet found that overwhelming item that allowed me to venture back home. I sat in the change room on my phone, in hope of striking inspiration or burst of energy to continue on. As I looked down I saw the prettiest shoes. Slipped behind the back of her foot and laced with the most detailed violet paisley fabric. I complimented her shoes and asked where they were from. She told me they were Gucci. And while I was somewhat saddened by the fact that I was in no financial position to make that purchase, I saw that she felt pride in her ability to. And her glowing happiness inspired me to wander back home, empty handed, but also a little gleeful.

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